In Which Javert Adheres to Justice
by GildedQuill
Summary: Javert's perspective of his life as long as it was concerned with prisoner 24601/9430. Rated T because of the reference to suicide. Oneshot.


This actually began as an assignment for my Creative Writing class. We had to write about a character and, to be honest, I have a hard to empathizing with Inspector Javert. He's so cruel and impassive, in my opinion. So I wrote this to understand him better. I didn't write this much- only the first 10 paragraphs, which were heavily edited. My writing is always better when I type up things that I've handwritten first, in my opinion. If anyone catches any grammatical errors, let me know. I read it over before posting it, but it's hard to catch your own mistake. First Les Mis fanfiction. I love it so much, and I'm reading the gargantuan novel now. Seriously, it's huge. I'm only on book three. I think it's evident in my writing that I'm not that far in the novel, even though I've seen the play a couple times and read an abbreviated version in French. And I can practically sing all the songs from memory... I digress. The novel's great, read it, _**all credit for this goes to Monsieur Hugo**_ (and some to Schönberg and Boublil for inspiration lyrics and music gave me)for being a genius. Another good title for this would be "In Which the Author Returns to Writing". I haven't been on this site in a while, I've missed it. Tell me what you think!

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**In Which Javert Adheres to Justice**

The law is not mocked. The law must be upheld. It's not a job for just anyone. An officer, a good officer, must be somewhat ruthless. He must memorize every rule and uphold them all without exception.

Who better than Monsieur l'Inspecteur, Javert. Born in the very opposite of his current threshold. Father was a criminal, mother was a gypsy tarot reader. Javert was born in the very worst environment. He was born on the outside of society, looking in. Longing to be in the midst of common townspeople, to be accepted by them. Rejecting his past, sullied from birth, Javert got into society the only way he knew how- he hunted that which he hated.

It was a simple decision- dog eat dog, hunt or be hunted, survival of the fittest. Javert did survive. He never wasted a moment on making the right "ethical" decision. Something was either right or wrong- the law does not take motive into consideration.

Was a criminal who broke into a store and stole bread for a hungry child not a criminal all the same? A threat to society? A possible repeat offender who must be stopped? In any case, speaking of ethics, now, no one ever stops to think of the shopkeeper. The innocent shopkeeper. Perhaps selling that loaf of bread was the difference between paying for rent for his home and being kicked.

So, without hesitation, that man who stole the bread should be thrown into jail. And he was. Jean Valjean, the man who stole a loaf of bread, was thrown into prison at Toulon. Refusing to pay for his offense, the criminal tried to escape and was punished. Nineteen years of punishment, to precise. Unkind, perhaps, but not unjust. Javert lived for justice. Justice was the only thing that separated him, an honest man, from his parents, lawless people.

Give them their yellow passports and be done with them. However grudgingly Javert let a criminal go, the ones he usually was hesitant to allow to leave usually found their way back to prison, anyway. With their marks of Cain, justice would have an easy time finding these convicts. A convict is never an ex-convict. A crime is to the soul as a scar is to the skin- it may fade, it may be forgotten, but it remains.

After his time in Toulon, Javert left for Montreuil-sur-Mer, where he joined the police force. Whtat a strange mayor!, Javert always thought. Living like a hermit yet having the means to be a baron. Amiable yet introverted. Good yet shifty. He was never out and about in full light.

That is, unless being in full light meant foolishly putting himself in danger to save an old man who was on the brink of death, anyway. Monsieur Fauchelevant was the subject of this occurrence. Trapped under a cart, what a pity. Javert calmly and logically sent for a jack. It was true that it may have arrived too late, but how could Javert, l'Inspecteur de Montreuil-sur-Mer, endanger himself to save one so insignificant? He had a duty to tend to.

Upon rescuing this old man, Monsieur le Maire revealed himself to Javert- Jean Valjean. It clicked in Javert's mind immediately. He could not report this new fact at once, however. Javert was a man of authority, and men of authority must act with tact. He did just this, silently and inconspicuously building up evidence against Monsieur le Maire, until the incident with Monsieur Bamatabois.

That rat Valjean crossed the line, allowing morality to mix with justice. Javert swiftly renounced him as a criminal at Paris, only to be thwarted again. Humiliated, Javert crawled back to Montreuil-sur-Mer, pleading to be let go. Valjean, always mixing morals with justice, refused.

After a complicated arrest, all Javert's troubles were solved- Valjean was apprehended. Justice served out in the end. Then he read in the newspaper that Valjean had died. Even better.

Javert happily moved on to Paris, the prefect of police. A job he would happily have maintained throughout his whole life. One day, he caught wind of "the beggar who gave alms". A man who had the money to be a baron, yet lived in squalor. He took care not to be revealed too clearly in the light of day.

Like Pavlov's dogs, Javert's mouth watered with anticipation and excitement. After a scrupulous scramble to collect evidence, Javert posed as an old beggar to whom this probable-Valjean was known to give alms. Yes! It was him!

Javert had not been so electrified in years. Not since he was told that the so called Mayor of Montreuil-sur-Mer was a criminal,since he had restored his irreproachable status. This electrification was probably the cause of his slip up, the reason he lost Valjean at the rue Petit Picpus.

Years passed, and Javert, in those years, was a quite unwell man. He was strung too tightly, he was paranoid, he was stressed. But those years of unrest paid of! Ten years later, Valjean resurfaced in Paris!

Where would Javert meet Valjean but at the barricades. It was slightly embarrassing. At the mercy of schoolboys. This was not how Javert had planned this encounter. Valjean, that fool, obsessed with morals, spared Javert's life. The former didn't know that this would actually kill the latter.

Javert was thankful to Valjean. It was twisted. It was perverted. It was true. Trying to remind himself of the scar that crime leaves on the sould, Javert tried to arrest Valjean in the sewers. He could not.

It would be unjust for Javert to arrest Valjean, to take away his life by throwing him in prison, when Valjean had just spared his.

It was rare, in Javert's life, when morality and justice overlapped so clearly. This cemented the fact that Javert simply could not arrest Jean Valjean. If Javert could do nothing, no one could do anything; Javert was the only officer in Paris who knew of this identity crisis. He feared he was the only one who cared.

Javert started walking to the Seine. His mind was so crammed with thoughts, his feet were mainly walking of their own accord. That was that. He was breaking the law by doing nothing- that is, committing a sin of omission. His entire reputation was dashed, broken, sullied, nullified.

_It is either Valjean or Javert._

Valjean had won. This may be a selfish act, but it was absolutely necessary. Javert refused to be the same as his father- a criminal. In the end, maybe a criminal can be forgiven- Javert saw that now. It was too late for him. As he looked into the black water, he took one deep breath and leaned forward gently.

Before he even fully realized he was falling, he hit the water. It was so cold, it was surprising he wasn't dead already. Javert exhaled under the water. He fought against his urges to kick to the top. The coldness was spreading to his extremities and he couldn't save himself now if he wanted. He couldn't fight it anymore- he took a breath in, taking water into his lungs, feeling the coldness envelop him from the inside, welcoming the blackness that was spreading before his eyes. Inspector Javert died a just man.


End file.
